Whether you know me in everyday life, or through my reviews, you will know that my favourite horror movie of all time is Last House On The Left, and I regularly bring it up, as well as its creator Wes Craven. The movie, and the novice young hippies who made it happen, have served as great inspiration to me in the last few years. It taught me about how to make a brilliant picture with minimal resources; about those magic moments where exactly the right people make exactly the right statement at exactly the right point in time; about appreciating a piece of art as it was intended to be viewed, in the context of its surroundings at the time of conception. Not to mention it introduced me to the music of David Hess.
I have loved horror movies for as long as I can remember. I think it began with R.L. Stine's legendary Goosebumps books, and the subsequent TV series. My village library had the episode The Haunted Mask on video; the scariest episode ever made, and even the cover of the tape scared me. But no matter how many nights I couldn't sleep, I couldn't stop bringing the tape home. I just loved to be scared. It was at the shamefully late age of 20 that I discovered Last House, and it did as Roger Ebert promised: it "rocked me back on my psychic heels." It was a whole new level of horror, yet it was one of the oldest levels of horror.
Wes Craven was a cool and interesting guy. When he started out making movies, he was a married philosophy graduate, a father of two young children, with liberal hippie ideals who was breaking out of his fanatically religious family background. His pal Sean Cunningham (later creator of Friday the 13th) recruited him to write and direct a mind-blowing horror picture he'd been given funding for. The whole production was cheap and unofficial: lack of union relation, lack of permits, and nothing but KFC on the menu. And somehow, the talented guerrilla crew of just 28 people, created a bold, fierce work that Ebert, who solely appreciated and recommended it, correctly predicted would be a sleeper hit.
Despite an early struggle, and ultimate submission, with typecasting, Wes went with his strengths, and established himself as an icon of Horror. Many of his legendary works have proved inspirational enough to be remade, spun-off and sequelled, and his imagination has given birth to some of the genre's most infamous figures. And this morning, the sad news has broken that Wes has passed away, at the age of 76. What an incredible legacy to leave behind. What a fascinating, diverse journey his existence was.
Four years ago, as I sat in the lecture room of my Film Studies class, I found my calling, when my analytical essays turned out to be really pretty good. I started doing it in my spare time, and dreamed of becoming a real-life Film Critic, with a big shiny Press Pass that got me straight into the theatres, and a column in actual print with my words upon it. About a year ago, I was hit by a tornado of cynicism, and told my mother I thought I might train as a teacher. Writing would just have to be my hobby. But the experiences of several NQT friends of mine were no real picnic, and the all-consuming nature of their careers left it clear to me that although teaching may be the safe option, it would ultimately wipe out any real ambition I had. What sealed the deal was when I watched a documentary on horror movies, and I felt totally, and weirdly, at peace. Scary movies, enjoying them, writing about them and discussing them, was what I really loved to do. And I was actually good at it. It took some daring, but anyone who ever made it had to take the leap. And I'd rather have tried and failed, than resign myself to an unfulfilling life.
The work of Wes Craven has communicated with me in many ways, and his lifelong activity in service to the great Horror genre, and its hoards of fans, is what will see his spirit and wild imagination immortalised, in all its dark, bloody, fantastical, gory glory. Mr. and Mrs. Craven, lunatic Baptists that you were, thank you for giving the gift of your son Wesley to this world. It is probably the greatest thing you ever did.
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